Passed Over
by choleblack
Summary: Wm. Johns is just a guy, trying to do his job, and not getting any help.


**Title:** Passed Over 1/1  
**Author: **Chole Black  
**Rating:** PG-13 (just a little profanity)  
**Disclaimer:** The characters from Pitch Black are property of USA Films. Nothing is being gained from the writing of this story except personal enjoyment.

**Summary: Wm. Johns is just a guy, trying to do his job, and not getting a lot of help.**

**Pairing: General  
**Feedback: **Yes! Yes! Yes!**

Pass Over

The small store front was silent except for the humming of machines and the splash of passing cars outside. There were no lights, only the faint eerie blue glow from a computer in the middle of the room. The shadow of a woman sat like a statue in front of the monitor, dark hair tucked behind her ears, nose pressed close to the glass. Only her hand moved, carefully floating over the mouse. She clicked twice, the subtle changes to the image in front of her hardly noticeable. Behind her a bell clattered against an opening door. Two heavy boots entered, leaving puddles of water across the worn linoleum floor. Leisurely the woman turned her head, focusing her eyes first on the gun strapped to the man's leg, then to his face.

"Well if it isn't the blue eyed devil" nonchalantly she turned her attention back to the screen "What can I do for you Johns?" 

The heavy footsteps continued as the Merc approached. He licked his lower lip slightly before speaking.

"I'm looking for someone." Johns' cold blue eyes shifted uneasily around the poorly lit room, hand resting protectively over the butt of his gun. "An escaped convict from a maximum security prison."

"Sorry, can't help ya." Without shifting her gaze the woman shook her head, her lips turned down in a small frown. She clicked the mouse a few more times, continuing to shuffle random colors on the monitor.

"No, I think you can help me, Hannah." He set his shoulders back, expanding his chest in a determined stance.  "You're just the kind of person he'd come and see."

She laughed lightly; puffing air threw her nose. 

"Was. I've gone straight now" 

She leaned closer to the monitor, the intricate pattern reflecting in her dark eyes. The cursor blurred over the image, dragging blotches of color across the screen.

A smirk curled the corner of Johns' lips. With his free hand he lifted a portable drive, turning it over a few times.

"Is that what you call all this, goin' straight?" He gestured over the cluttered computer station, carelessly tossing the drive back onto the metal table.

"Hey," Hannah jumped at the sudden loud noise. "Historic document restoration is perfectly legal." Turning her head sharply in Johns' direction; she tapped at the computer screen. Her eyes locked on him, brow bent in anger.

Resting his hand heavily on the table, Johns leaned over her shoulder, peering at the mass of colored squares she worked on. He squinted, searching for an image, but saw nothing.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. You've got yourself a nice little set up here.  It's what you're doing in your free time I want to know about" he stepped back, shifting his weight, hand settling firmly over his gun again.

"Like I said before, I'm not in that business." Hannah slowed her speech, accentuating the words. She turned back to work on the over enhanced image, ignoring Johns' posturing. "You want fake ID's there's a little Chinese man down the street. Does damn good work."

A frustrated scowl crossed Johns face, hate flashed in his icy blue eyes. He didn't like being ignored, especially by a woman. Angrily he grabbed the arm of her chair, turning her roughly so they were face to face. 

"Now you listen here." He bent close, pointing threateningly towards her, his voice seething. "This guys a killer. Don't think for one second I'm gonna let him walk 'cause you feel like playing tough." 

Hannah couldn't help smiling; she was enjoying his little tantrum. Johns survived on others respect but it was the last thing she was going to give him.

"What makes you think I'd tell you shit anyway Johns?"  She teased him, smiling despite his perceived authority.

Her response was not what he had hoped for. Johns was tired of playing games with this woman. He was there to get information, if she had any; there was only one way to get it. In a flash, Johns stepped back, pulling the gun from his side. The slide racked loudly in the small room. Callously he aimed it at her. His head tilted sidewise as he eyed her threw the sights, a crooked grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hardhearted Hannah. You'd sell out your own children if it meant one less day in slam." 

Spreading her arms casually, she continued to smile at his threat. "Go ahead, ghost me. I still don't have anything to tell ya." She raised her eyebrows in a quizzical manor, shrugging her shoulders.

Johns' nose wrinkled, his upper lip curled in annoyance. A sigh escaped his throat as he lowered the gun.  Defeated he returned the weight to its familiar location at his side. 

"If you hear anything," He gestured aggressively at her, the tone in his voice threatening.  

"You're at the top of the list Johns." Hannah assured him, turning her chair back to the computer as Johns' footsteps faded behind her.

 Her hand rested again over the mouse but she did not return to work. Patiently Hannah listened for the bell to clatter against the door before expanding the view on the monitor. Her chair squeaked as she leaned back to examine the image that now filled the screen. Not bad work, considering the interruption. A small black machine on the desk began to hum, a freshly pressed card falling into the adjacent hopper. Out of the darkness behind the desk a man reached for the document, his polished eyes gleaming in the half light. Hannah watched him nervously as he turned the small card over in his dirty, scrapped up hands, carefully inspecting her work.

"250 credits." His harsh voice rattled as he spoke.

Hannah nodded, swallowing heavily, never removing her eyes from his ominous form. The ID disappeared into a pocket replaced by three somewhat crumpled, blood stained bills. His calloused hands smoothed the papers before setting them on top of the monitor. Wordlessly he disappeared back into the shadowy corners.

"Riddick," Hannah's voice shook uneasily as she spoke.

He turned, glowing eyes focusing on her in the dim room. Her heart pounded at suddenly being under his sliver stare.

Hannah nodded towards the back of the shop, "I suggest you use the back door."

He smiled devilishly at her before fading into the darkness again. Shaking her head, Hannah sighed, returning her attention to the image that remained on her computer. Riddick's stern expression stared back at her for a moment before she deleted the file.


End file.
